


Communication and Everything I Hate About It

by Ultra_Swagnus (SerendipitousSong)



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Explicit Language, Gender-neutral Reader, Internal Conflict, Internalized racism, Loss of Language, Magnus learns a bad word, Mainly the word Fuck, Mexican Character, Mexican reader, Offer of Assisted Suicide, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Character of Color, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2020-12-28 00:35:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21127874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerendipitousSong/pseuds/Ultra_Swagnus
Summary: "Why don't you speak it?""Are you ashamed?"Am I ashamed?





	1. Lost in Translation

"Why don't you speak it?"

The question took you by surprise after a long stretch of silence. Finding a stopping place, you quit typing and spun the spinny chair around. Ultra Magnus hadn't moved from his seat on some empty cubes. "You're still on that?"

Ultra Magnus raised bright optics from the piece of equipment crumbling in his servos. "Yes. I don't know many mechs who don't speak their native dialect of Cybertronian. In fact," he paused as an exposed wire sparked. With a simple twist of his wrist, some plating snapped shut and enclosed the wire once again. "I don't know _ any _ mechs with such a… disability."

"Disability, huh?" Whether that was a conscious choice in phrase or simply another lost in translation error, from a certain standpoint, one could say not speaking Spanish was a sort of disability. "I'm not a huge authority on any type of disability, so I don't know what you'd want me to say to that."

The tiny hunk of metal shifted from one servo to another as he considered his words. "I asked a question, but I did not know it could be a sensitive subject."

"Okay well…" Well? Were you really gonna talk about this now? Ugh. "It's complicated. Kind of. And dumb."

Ultra Magnus met your eyes and laid the scrap next to him on a raised catwalk for humans. "Dumb how?"

Oh my god. Why me?

"Because… like. It never makes sense, the way I explain it. Just think like… trauma? But not." Somehow without moving a millimeter, Ultra Magnus conveyed utter confusion. "Imagine," you made a rainbow with your hands to illustrate, "only associating it with negative things. Like fighting. Or arguing. And also nobody makes an effort to teach you? To talk to you in Spanish? And being told the age old _ this is America and we speak English _ bullshit _ . _ There's actually quite a lot of reasons, and all of them are uncomfortable for me to talk about."

"Are you ashamed?"

"Of not speaking Spanish? That's a loaded question there, big guy."

"It would do you good to think through your answers instead of deflecting with semi-witty responses."

Jesus Christ. But he asked so earnestly. He had only been here -- what? A month? Hangar E had barely been established, and the Autobots had only just settled in. Ultra Magnus knew next to nothing about humans except that we're squishy, we annoy Ratchet, and for some reason not everybody spoke their native language (an observation he'd made after Raf tried to read a meme in Spanish to you. You'd tried to make sense of it but mostly it fell flat after a lengthy translation and explanation.)

And Ultra-frickin'- Magnus just had to be paying actual attention and putting two and two together. Thus, this conversation.

_ Were _ you ashamed? The answer came immediately. Yes. Yes you were and it was a regret that'd follow you to your grave. Every time your gramma whispered "learn Spanish, precioso" into every hug, it broke your heart. The few English words she knew, just so she could ask of you something that seemed… painful.

Not impossible. Just very painful.

_ It's just a language, though. You're just searching for white approval. You're internally racist against Mexicans. You're lazy. It's sad, really. Disappointing. _

Yeah. Lots of reasons, all of them painful to talk about.

_ Am I ashamed of being Mexican in America? _

"Y/N?"

"Yeah," you choked. "I guess you could say that."


	2. Teaching and Learning

"FUCK!"

Sparks showered my arms, shoulders, and head from an overhead lamp above my desk area. No one else happened to be within the old hangar to witness the lamp explode, but someone certainly heard my screech, as told by the pounding of heavy pedes from outside.

In front of me, reports, my iPad, and my laptop had suffered from the flaming rain. Sparks must've made their way inside the keys, and with a yelp I jumped back. I changed a glance upwards at the offending light...

...the one Magnus had been repairing to the best of his ability just a few days prior, during which time the pair of us had had  _ that _ conversation. It seems that one unruly bit of wiring burst once again, causing my painful predicament.

"Y/N!" The bot of the hour himself clanged the shutter up. His optics scanned the Human Spot for a couple moments then, having located my drafts and laptop (both of which were currently on fire) he stepped in cautiously. "Y/N?"

"Here and queer," I rasped, rubbing the burns on my upper arms. "And almost set on fucking fire! Look!" I pointed at the bastard lamp above me. "That motherfucker just blew me and my laptop to hell! I thought you fixed it!?"

Ultra Magnus took in his sparking, also on-fire contribution to the base, then considered my arms. "Do you require a medic?"

"Uh, probably!" My arm hair was singed clear off and some spots were bright red.  _ Was that a blister forming!? Already!? _ "I probably should see that burn specialist bitch too.  _ Fuck _ , that hurts."

My giant blue pal used a single digit to snuff the flames of my precious laptop into nothing, and then--

"HEY! Put me down, you motherfucker!" I spat a glob of saliva into Magnus' hand.

"Wh-- that is--why--" The Commander struggled to find his words while frantically dropping me back onto the catwalk and searching Ratchet's worktop for a cloth. "Please tell me human oral fluid is not corrosive!"

"I wish it were."

"I have observed my team members carry other humans without such a response. Have I overstepped a human boundary?"

"Uh, yeah?" I knew my display of brushing myself off was probably way overdramatic. "All of them? Perhaps," I pointed a finger in the air like the classic  _ I have an idea _ motion, "personal space is something you've heard before?"

Ultra Magnus blinked. "The human bubble of personal space is substantially smaller when compared to--"

"Whatever, just get me to the fucking medical building." I raised my arms, and after some hesitation accompanied by an incredulous brow raise, Magnus picked me up again. Gently.

Something that may have been some sort of Cybertronian muttering beeped from his throat.

"Say again?"

“What does  _ fuck  _ mean?”

I blinked. “Fuck is a curse word, Magnus.” I remembered that the guy seriously had not been out much except to scout energon deposits, stretch, and that one assault on some place called Darkmount. In terms of human interaction, he was at an all time minimal. Good for him.

"Don't repeat it and if you do, don't tell anyone  _ I  _ taught it to you. Especially Ratchet," I shuddered, thinking of the first time he realized half my spoken vocabulary consisted of some really bad curses.

"Fucking agreed."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They're back! IRL I do not curse that much anymore (working around preschoolers censors ya) however if shit gets tight, you know I got a few creative ones up my sleeve.
> 
> Hopefully Magnus doesn't repeat that one...
> 
> Thanks for reading, please point out my many typos in the comments.
> 
> \- ya boi


	3. No Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was sad, and sadder, and then I was cold. There was nothing to say anymore until he made an offer.
> 
> Maybe I should have taken it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unedited, unbeta'd, I wrote this five minutes before posting it here.
> 
> I'm very very sad.

There were no words between us.

That was not so unusual, but sometimes, the energy was different.  _ We _ were different. The air was simmering with something, but not something between us. No tension, no frustration or confusion, no cultural differences.

There was just us. Standing. Watching nothing from a peak higher than any of the ones nearer to base. Clouds rolled by. We ignored them. Snow fell and burned my arms with their cold. We ignored that too. There was just us.

My tears felt so hot in my eyes, and they fell and slowly began soaking my shirt. Freezing temperatures bit my skin. It hurt. I didn't care and Ultra Magnus waited for any cue that I wanted to leave, not saying a damn thing over my blue lips and red swollen fingers.

"If you wanted me to, I would leave you here."

I was frozen already but I still froze again, turning his words over in my head, considering them.

"I don't know what I want."

He stared at nothing with me. He understood, somehow, what I was looking for in the blizzard, watching it buffet the cities and forests below with angry gusts of wind.

In fact, I felt quite a bit like the blizzard myself. Angry, forceful winds tearing through branches and destroying trees and bending ancient evergreens in half. I felt like the snow, so cold and empty, barely a snowflake with no real substance, being yanked back and forth by my angry winds. I was the burn of my fingers as frostbite set in, the numbness of my toes and legs and eyes and hair and even my bones, slowly freezing to death and wondering if I might be happier this way. I was the unending, blank, hopeless whiteness -- the blizzard itself with all its components -- burying everything and desperately hoping that if I bury it far enough, I will  _ never _ have to see it again.

I wanted to be left here. I wanted to burn and freeze and end.

I wanted it. And I knew I could say the word and Ultra Magnus would make a heartbreaking excuse for my absence, send a search party and call for backup and make a huge scene of there having been an accident, and no one would ever know that I wanted to die.

I wanted it.

"I want it," I said, but he knew me so well now that he made no move to leave. He just went from looking at the nothing and looked at me.

"I want it," I said, "but it's not the right thing to do."

And without further ado, he scooped me up and held me to his warm chassis, and we returned to the groundbridge location.

I left my sorrows in that blizzard, but they followed me.

This time, however, I was ready. I could fight. I would win.

_ You would have left me there, but it would have haunted us both. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heartbreak, send tweet

**Author's Note:**

> Been reading Ultra Magnus fic and writingtoomuchtrash on tumblr has been humoring me far more than I can ever thank them for. Also I have been dealing with a lot in my head lately (shocker.)
> 
> Y'all know the drill by now. I get sad and then I write. I have a breakdown, and then I write. I wanna die, but I don't, and then? I write. Today's episode of "What's Got Dips in a Tizzy?" is brought to you by Spanish.
> 
> Un-beta'd but I had some people read it over so...? It might be okay. Shook.


End file.
